


Shadow Watch

by Jackoat



Category: Burn Notice
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-04
Updated: 2011-04-04
Packaged: 2017-10-17 14:09:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/177655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackoat/pseuds/Jackoat





	Shadow Watch

Fiona yawned for the hundredth time and leaned her head against the car door. With a quick glance at Michael, she drummed her fingers on the glass. Of course, Michael showed no reaction. Fiona wondered if he was ever passive-aggressive. No, he was just painstakingly patient, she decided.

He continued to peer through the lens of his binoculars, transfixed on the lit expanse a hundred meters out. Bushes obscured the Charger and its black exterior blended in with the night silhouettes, shielding them from detection. They were, in essence, part of the shadows.

"No one has gone in and out for an hour, Michael," Fiona said boredly as she twirled a strand of hair around her fingers. They had been sitting in the Charger since 9 PM and it was already past two in the morning. If it weren't for the three cups of coffee that Fiona had drank earlier (ignoring Michael's protests that it would make her even more insufferable with unbridled energy), she would be fast asleep by now.

Michael sighed. "Fi, we need to map their schedule and keep track of the shift changes so we can plan the raid accordingly. You wanted to storm the place, this is me listening." Despite her attention span, he was glad that she was here; it was much less lonely being on a stakeout with someone else.

"Tell me again why we can't just plant a bug and hook it up to a video feed," she said.

"There's no Wi-Fi or cell signals here and femtocells won't work without Wi-Fi or a constant power source," he explained patiently, still looking through his binoculars. "Besides, I want to wrap everything up without delaying another day. Don't you have a magazine to read? Nails to paint? Whatever it is that you do?"

She rolled her eyes. "And… why do you need me here at two in the morning when I could be in the comfort of my own bed right now?"

Michael lowered the binoculars and looked at her with raised eyebrows. "You're here… for…" – he gestured between them – "tactical support. You know. In case things go wrong." Fiona looked at him expectantly. "Backup," he added.

"Right. In case a seventy-year old _suspected_ art and heroin dealer one-ups you. Admit it," she smiled, "you just like spending time with me. Even when I'm driving you insane."

Michael shrugged, "Think whatever you want." He raised the binoculars back up to eye-level and stared back at the warehouse. "Shift change between the two guards at the back gate, 2:28 AM. Write that down." He tapped the wheel.

Fiona threw the pen at the back of his head. Unfazed, he picked the pen up from the ground and scribbled his notes on the clipboard on Fiona's lap. Fiona snapped the pen into the metal clutch and tossed it onto the dashboard.

"I think that surveillance can be really boring," she told him, extending her legs to rest on the dashboard and reclining her seat back. Michael rolled his eyes through his binoculars. "Really. I couldn't tell."

Unperturbed at his sarcasm, Fiona continued, "And there's lots of ways to pass the time more… interestingly." No answer from Michael. "Like Belfast and Germany," she finished sultrily. She faced him, propping her head on her hand and crossing her legs.

"You want to screw?" Michael asked incredulously, never taking his eyes away from the lens. "Right now?"

"It's fun. Admit it, we both need it. So… what do you say?"

"I find it funny that you're actually asking my opinion on this, Fi." Michael retorted. "Since when have you ever been considerate of my feelings?"

"I'm _always_ considerate of your feelings!" Fiona exclaimed, "I was _most certainly_ considerate of your feelings two weeks ago when you were in my mouth." He deliberately ignored her jab.

"Fine!" She harrumphed.

A few minutes passed and Michael thought that maybe finally she'd give him a little peace. Wrong. He was so, very, deliciously, wrong. He heard a moan from behind him and had the (mis-) fortune to look. And he stared.

She had shed her one-piece dress and was in the middle of the biggest mindfuck Michael had seen in a while – she was _masturbating_. Right there. With him next to her – within touching distance no less. And he was supposed to be focusing on the warehouse door. He could not tear his eyes away and his binoculars dropped to his lap.

Fiona twisted her legs in a silent taunt to Michael, right hand between her legs and left hand tweaking her nipples. Her head was tilted back, eyes in slits, and mouth half open. She looked like she was having a great time and he found the sight unbelievably erotic. He was torn between wanting to be the one fingering her and just wanting to watch her.

Fiona worked her fingers, angling it against her G-spot and moaning every so often. It had been a while since she catered to her own whims instead of relying on Michael; she found the independence rather refreshing, knowing that she could still handle herself. It was fifteen minutes until her left hand fell back to grip the side of the seat. Michael's own hands were gripping his binoculars, knuckles white and feeling the strain.

"Jesus fuck, Fi…" Michael said when she drew her fingers out, glistening, and put them in her mouth, tasting her juices. He forced himself to close his stingingly dry eyes to restore moisture and obliterate the thoughts of her running through his mind – _surveillance, surveillance, baseball statistics_. Fiona swiped up some more of her juices and poked her fingers directly into Michael's half-open mouth – was his jaw really dropped the entire time? Eyes still closed, he licked around her fingertips, savoring the taste of her, before sucking greedily and licking up and down her finger.

"2:48. Guard just left post, heading eastwards." Fiona said suddenly, handing his binoculars back to him.

"What?" Michael mumbled around her fingers and opened his eyes, blinking them several times to clear his vision. Fiona withdrew her fingers and picked up the clipboard. He blinked at the binoculars, wondering when she had taken them, and looked over at her. She jotted down the observation, seeing Michael stare at her in her peripheral vision. "Some spy you are. Whatever happened to surveillance?"

Michael stared at her some more. She was nonchalant, as if she didn't just have an orgasm a few minutes ago, as if she wasn't sitting next to him, naked. _Naked_ , his mind reminded him. He looked back out at the guard who wasn't there and back at Fiona. She yawned and started put her clothes back on – and already his heart started to protest.

He swallowed and put his hand on her arm to stop her, "We _did_ have good times in Belfast."

Fiona slowly turned to look at him. Finally, he had come to his senses. His pupils were wide – probably more from being aroused than the darkness. She wanted to tell him that he needed to lighten up more – to not take everything so seriously. She felt almost crude when she realized that he only loosened up when his self-control was scrambled (although, deep-inside she really knew all along - that was why she gave him a show, wasn't it?). "You do remember," she smiled at him anyway.

"Yeah."

He tugged at her arm in invitation and she gingerly made her way to his lap. He slid the seat back to give her more sitting area, but she shimmied down into the space just below the steering wheel. The steering wheel dug into her back a bit, but she didn't care. His cock twitched in anticipation. "You'll have to keep watching; it's still your shift," she grinned evilly at her from her position, tossing his binoculars at him. Michael caught them and glared, but grudgingly raised his eyes out the window.

He shivered as Fiona pulled down his pants and boxers, pooling them around his ankles. He was hard from watching her. She placed kisses on his thighs, making absolutely sure that she didn't even touch his erection. Oh, he'd realize what it meant to have fun.

Fiona gripped his hips, keeping her eyes on him and blew over his cock, hot air enveloping him and then dissipating. She grinned at his suddenly ragged breathing and shaky arms holding the binoculars up.

"2:59," he hissed and lowered the binoculars, right arm stretching out to jot on the clipboard on the seat that Fiona had previously occupied. "Another guard's with him with some forms."

"That's probably the nightly shipments that Ricky was talking about," Fiona purred around his cock, eliciting a moan from Michael and a mumbled "probably" as he looked back out the window.

Fiona had to admit; she underestimated just how Michael could focus on two things at the same time. Unsurprising, considering how he could field her sarcastic digs and incessant complaining during stakeouts with extreme patience while observing his surroundings. He had to be desperate, though; he quivered with every press of her lips, hips jerking minutely every time she breathed on her and his arms were unsteady in keeping the binoculars raised.

Michael didn't think he could hold out much longer; nothing could drive him to the edge of insanity _and leave him dangling there_ like Fiona. The guards were arguing, dilly-dallying about their criminal lives, never knowing that a man, getting a blowjob, no less, was observing them.

Fiona sucked two fingers noisily in her mouth, knowing that Michael would be able to hear her in the stillness of the Miami air. She let her fingers out with a pop and ran her wet fingers over one side of his erection, over the head of his penis, an down the other side. This time the jerk of his hips was significant and his breath came out on a pained hiss.

She could hear the scratches of pen on paper as Michael jotted down more notes, and she could hear the rumbling of a departing truck. Returning her fingers to her mouth, she repeated the process, except this time she played with the swollen head of his cock a little more and let her other hand softly caress his balls.

Michael's entire body shuddered and the moan he let out oozed desperation. His body felt like one big throbbing nerve and any thought of this job had been replaced by a mantra of "Fi, Fi, Fi."

She rubbed her palm on his head, grinding the precum back in, and stroked him.

"The friction," he gritted, "Hurts." Her hands were exquisite and soft, but that didn't change the fact that he was still achingly hard and the stroking was painful. Maybe it was even a subconscious request for her to use her mouth. It was the most he'd ever said in terms of demands, anyway.

Fiona took pity at his agonized voice and rested her hands on his hips. She lowered her mouth to him and trailed her tongue down his cock down to his balls and back up, making another pass over the head. She swirled her tongue around and enveloped him. She heard the binoculars drop and the sound of him moaning and the 'thud' of his head as it fell back. She felt his back arching into her mouth and her hands tangling into her hair.

"Fi, oh god," his voice was hoarse. More than anything in the world right now he wanted her to suck him, to suck him blind and to suck him into sweet oblivion and bliss. He couldn't remember why it had ever been a problem to do this to begin with. It was worth it in Belfast. It was worth it in Germany. It was worth it in Miami. Fiona's hand grasped the base of his cock as she throated him, sucking him like a Popsicle.

His head lolled forward as she continued sucking him. He swept her hair away and held it up, wanting to see her mouth moving up and down him. His mind was deliciously empty, focused on nothing but her.

Suddenly, Fiona felt his hand drop from her hair and grip the sides of her shoulders. He started moaning loudly. She could feel him starting to come and she stroked his balls, encouraging his release.

"Fi," he groaned and tapped on her head. She sucked even harder, granting him invitation to come in her mouth.

"Goddamn, goddamn, Fi, look at me," he panted, feeling the beginnings of a happy ending – a pinpoint of pleasure on the tip of his cock. Fiona looked up at him, never stopping her ministrations, and her look smoldered him. Hot sparks jolted down his cock, through his pelvis, down to his lower legs and throughout his upper body. He moaned her name as he came, digging his nails into her shoulder.

Fiona continued to suck him softly until she drained every last drop of him and he was completely spent. She released him with a small pop and looked back at him. He was panting and still staring at her, recovering his breath from bone-deep satisfaction. Michael tugged at her arms, pulling her into his lap. Fiona snuggled against him, feeling his racing heartbeat slow down to normal. His arms enclosed her. She let out a contented sigh and felt him press a kiss on the top of her head. Fiona smiled into his chest.

No more noteworthy events occurred at the warehouse, but neither of them cared. The stakeout was no longer boring; the release of pent-up sexual frustration gave way to easy conversation and light jokes. The temperature stayed comfortably cool until the sun started to rise, bringing light and scattering the shadows.


End file.
